Once a Widow by Lee Roberts Page A

the building. “It’s too quiet, Doctor. Gives me the creeps, somehow. For months we’ve been jammed, even putting beds in the halls, but tonight, all of a sudden, we have six empty semi-private rooms and four privates, and the ward is only half full.”
    “Don’t be so greedy,” he told her. “The mortgage was paid off last year.”
    “I know, but we need another iron lung, the plaster in the cafeteria is bad, the boiler needs cleaning and repairing before winter, we’re having trouble getting nurses’ aides and orderlies for a dollar-ten an hour, and—”
    “Maybe I can dig up some business,” Shannon said, grinning. “How would it be if I put a little cyanide in my patients’ vitamin capsules? Not enough to kill—just enough to make them hospital cases. Complete rest in private rooms.”
    Miss James laughed. “You’d better not suggest that to Mr. Grange—he’d be all for it. By the way, the radio station heard about that woman admitted this afternoon—I suppose Mr. Watson told it all over town—and wanted to know all about it. I didn’t come on duty until six, but Mrs. Andrews told me about the woman before she left. So—”
    “How is she?” Shannon broke in.
    “Conscious, but she hasn’t said a word. I tried to talk to her, find out who she is, where she came from, but it seemed to upset her and I didn’t try any more. Incidentally, I had her moved. I saw on her chart that you ordered complete quiet, and her room on the main corridor is pretty noisy, especially during visiting hours, and it’s fairly close to the street, too.”
    “Where did you put her?”
    “In 140 in the north wing. Mr. Sprang was in there, you know, and he was moved to 102, where the woman was. He said he didn’t mind; in fact, he complained that it was too quiet back there, and nothing to see out the window but the rear lawn.” Miss James paused and then said brightly, “So everybody’s happy.”
    “Good,” Shannon said. “Did the woman eat anything tonight?”
    “A little bouillon and some tea. I took her temperature—a degree above normal. She’s rather pretty—anyhow, she was pretty once.”
    “And she won’t talk?”
    “Nope. Not a peep.”
    “What did you tell the radio people?”
    “All I could. Gave them her description and said that up until now, due to her condition, she has been unable to tell us how she came to be on the island or who she is. Maybe if they broadcast it, someone will come and identify her.” Miss James paused and frowned. “She seems to be in sort of a—a trance.”
    “Yes,” Shannon said. “I’ll take a look at her now. Do you have Lew Sprang down for surgery in the morning?”
    “Yep. Dr. Kovici is assisting, isn’t he?”
    “That’s right. See you later, Martha.” Shannon picked up his bag, walked to the main corridor and turned to his left. As he reached the hospital’s front entrance he encountered Miss Coral Thatcher stepping up from the small lobby. “Hi, Thatcher,” he said, knowing that she liked being addressed by her last name.
    She smiled at him, showing sharp little teeth behind thin lips, and her small hazel eyes glinted with pleasure. “Good evening, Doctor.”
    “Why don’t you call me Clint,” he said. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
    She was flustered; her gaze swerved away and her hands fluttered to her rather lank brown hair, which was beginning to gray. Then she forced herself to look at him directly, annoyed at the sudden rapid beating of her heart, and attempted a coy airiness. “Why, thank you, sir. I’m flattered.”
    “Working overtime tonight?” he asked, thinking that she was not really too unattractive and that her figure, what could be discerned of it beneath the loose summer print she was wearing, must be quite good, even extraordinary for a woman of her age, and he wondered why she’d never married. “Don’t you go off duty at five?”
    “Yes, but I’ve been doing some extra work for Mr. Grange. We’re late in